


Watching Time

by Isis_the_Sphinx



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Hitchhiking, POV Outsider, Post-Sburb, Separated Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:37:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis_the_Sphinx/pseuds/Isis_the_Sphinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were on vacation. That meant a car trip across the country to clear your head, stopping wherever the hell you wanted because you could, not because you had to meet a client, or some other irritating appointment. You'd seen the occasional hitchhiker in various other trips, but none of them ever caught your attention like this. And damn, this kid looked young.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All That's Left In The World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/703264) by [sumomomochi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumomomochi/pseuds/sumomomochi). 



> Hello, first fic on A03 ever. Also, hello first Homestuck fic. 
> 
> I've always LOVED outsider POV fics, because they make you think about what the /other/ person might be seeing, and not what we all know about these characters intrinsically, having followed their story from beginning to end. 
> 
> Lastly, I didn't color format the end pesterlog because that stuff makes my eyes cross. It's still very readable!

It was the glaringly red backpack that caught your attention from the road. Straight roads had a habit of hypnotizing you, and so you tried glancing at the scenery every now and then to keep from crashing. It worked, for the most part. Well, you weren’t dead yet. Cross-country trips by yourself weren’t exactly the most exciting thing in the world, but this was your vacation. 

You pulled to a stop on the side of the highway, Texas dust hovering in the air behind your rear tires, and you could see the attentive energy go into the kid’s shoulders. You tilted your head, eyeing him up before you got to the car. He really was just a kid. Tall and lanky, shoulders broad but still a little thin, telling of the filling out he would do as he got older. He had pale skin that was really starting to go pink in the hard sun, pale blonde hair, and dark aviators that took up a third of his face. There was something of a bird about him, something that just popped into your head as you watched him approach.

He knocked on the front passenger window and you rolled it down halfway, pulling off your sunglasses in an attempt to meet his eyes.  
“Where ya goin’?”

He shrugged, soft Texan drawl not really surprising, “Washington. You?”

You smiled slightly. Washington worked well enough. “West until I have to turn north or go swimming. Get in.” You clicked the door unlocked and he popped it open, slinging his sack into the foot well in front of the seat. Odd choice for a kid as long-legged as him. Maybe he didn’t want it out of his sight?  
“Just two things, though, kid.”

He looked up at you, halfway into the car already. “No funny business or I reserve the right to pepper spray your ass,” You waggled the canister in your left hand from where you kept it hanging. He nodded. “Good. Two, price of travel is conversation. Cross-country drives aren’t exactly easy, and talkin’ will keep me awake and aware.”

“Yes ma’am. Talkin’ I can do.”

You snorted. “I’m only 30, no need to call me ‘ma’am’. I’m Morgan Staroz.”

“Dave Strider.”

Dave wasn’t kidding when he said he could talk. It was like someone had put a perpetual motion machine on his blabbermouth ability and then hit the randomizer. You really only had to add a few things here and there to give him a started subject and then off he went into the oddest tangents you had _ever_ heard. And metaphors. Kid loved his metaphors. And what, in the ever loving world, were smuppets, and why did he think they were devil spawn?

Kid did eventually fall asleep in the late afternoon, the gentle rocking the car caused and the nasty-looking sunburn that was slowly brightening on his skin catching up to him. You thought about stopping around eight to get a late dinner and maybe hunt down a cheap hotel for the night. You usually just slept in the back of your blocky SUV, the open-ended trunk more than enough space to curl up in, but with a second passenger a bed might be a bit more welcome and a whole lot less weird. 

Dave twitched a lot in his sleep, the movement catching your eye yet again from the straight roads. His right hand clenched tight and his forehead wrinkled, forcing a whole lot more age on him than you knew he had. Or at least guessed. He couldn’t be more than eighteen. You wondered what he had gone through to make him want to hitch-hike all the way to Washington state. Ah, well, it was his problem, really. Though you hoped he wasn’t running away. Helping out runaways was never really good news. You’d ask at dinner. With as thin as he looked, he could use some more food. 

You’d tapped his shoulder when you parked at the IHOP, and he’d jumped in his seat like someone had poured ice-water over him, breathing hard and gazing around to get in his immediate surroundings. It reminded you of your adopted war-vet uncle and how he’d wake up from some of his naps. Your adopted dad said this was a big improvement from when he’d wake up swinging, gun from under the pillow in his other hand. It set off a couple alarm bells in the back of your head as to what Dave was trying to get away from, instead of just getting somewhere. 

“You hungry, Dave?”

He glanced at the bright, fluorescent white light above the door and his stomach growled, overriding anything that might have come out of his mouth. You laughed at the soft blush that rose into his cheeks. 

Apples. The kid _loved_ apples. Like, he’d ordered the biggest glass of apple juice you’d ever seen, and his pancakes were covered in syrup and sliced apples. Between bites he went on and on about the holy elixir that was apple juice and how he didn’t get enough of it. 

You’d waited until he’d worked his way through three pancakes and was savoring his apple juice before bringing up any piercing questions.  
“So, what’s in Washington?” Wow, you didn’t think a face could go that blank that fast. Impressive, and a little worrying. 

“Friend of mine I need to meet up with. He’s probably…” He trailed off, and it was a little frustrating to you. 

You sighed. “Look, I just need to know if you’ve run away or something. If I need to cop-dodge I want to know.” 

His head jerked up, eyes probably meeting yours. He still hadn’t taken off those shades of his; it was a little disconcerting.

“I got thrown onto the streets when I was five, got caught when I was thirteen, got adopted permanently when I was sixteen. I know what some shit’s like, and you look like the age where you’re dealin’ with that too…”

Why the heck were you spilling all this? And why were you so damned concerned for him? Admittedly there was a little concern right off the top, you’d picked him up as a hitchhiker, but somehow during his hour-long babble he’d wormed out even more affection from you. It was something to let simmer in the back of your head as you watched Dave’s body language go from tense and ready to bolt to at least a little bit more relaxed against the booth backrest. 

“I gotta meet up with my friend John.”

“Where’s John live?”

There was suspicion in the twist of his lips, now. “Why’re you being so nice? You don’t look like one of those creepy serial killers but damn I’ve been wrong before do I need to scram now or what? What the hell why are you even taking a cross-country trip all by yourself hell you’re even feeding me lady you make _no_ sense.”

Wow that was a lot of questions at once. Motor mouth on the attack then.

“Well, one, the first question is always the hardest to answer. I’ll get back to that. Two, I am not a serial killer, nor do I plan on doing anything to you besides get you where you need to go. Three, this is my vacation. I’m a financial counselor, and a rather good one at that. Being in a car away from everybody else and the sheer amount of numbers I’ve got to deal with on a daily basis is a nice break. Cool your jets. I can see the panic ramping up in you again. And I’m feeding you because I’m hungry and not feeding a guest is just plain rude.” 

You sighed. Now you had to answer the hard question. He was waiting expectantly for it, fingers tapping the table once a second. You were pretty sure he didn't notice he was doing it. 

“I’m being nice because you’re young and who knows who will pick you up otherwise. Truckers are pretty nice overall but you get the odd creepy one and hell _dammit_ kid being nice is common courtesy.” At this point you knew frustration was written all over your face, there was a good bit of heat in your cheeks and a hand was tearing at your short, dirty blonde locks. “I didn’t want to see shit happen to you. Don’t look the good Samaritan in the mouth, okay?” You grumbled, going back to the last couple bites of your hash browns to ignore whatever look he might be giving you now. 

There was a clink of a glass being set on the table. “So, how long do you think it’ll take to get to Tacoma?”

You smiled. Wow, it was easy to get attached to this kid if you weren’t careful. 

The two of you made good time across the back half of the country—tackling California’s nightmare-inducing traffic-clogged roads at midnight so you didn’t sit and waste hours—making it into Tacoma about two days after that night. Dave kept up with his ‘payment’ of endless chatter and it eventually turned into something resembling banter. Hey, your shtick was number compiling and telling idiots how to spend less money—and let’s not get into taxes—not spewing the English language in such a way that you kinda had to think twice on just how exactly that metaphor worked to the original point.

Dave scribbled down the address that was his final destination, but it still took a stop at a library and a quick use of Google maps to find out exactly how to get there. Tacoma city center? Easy enough, follow the signs. A single house hidden somewhere in Washington suburbia? Speak to me, oh Google genie.

John’s neighborhood was a very quiet, well-kept area, one with nigh cookie-cutter houses set in a way that made them a good backdrop for the basic start for an apocalyptic movie. Dave was jittery, and could not keep at all still. Yes, he’d always had some twitch during the trip, but at this point it was like something had injected a mix of caffeine and adrenaline into each joint. 

You slid up the final street, creeping along and reading each house number before quietly coming to a stop in front of the correct driveway. 

“Here’s your stop, kid. You got everything?”

“Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

You smiled at him again. “It was my pleasure. Really made the ass-end of the country seem more interesting.” You shuffled around to grab your purse. “Look, here’s my business card. It’s got my work and personal email, website, and cell number.” You found a pen, took it, and flipped over a card to scribble something down. “And this is my Pesterchum handle. You need a ride somewhere, or need something and think I can help, drop me a line. I talk to a lot of interesting people in the great act of telling them the do’s and don’t’s of money. I’m pretty sure I could wrangle a few favors.”

He took the card, read the chum-handle, and slipped it—surprisingly—into his wallet. “I’ll remember that.” He popped the door open. “See ya around.”

“Bye, Dave.”

He shut the car door and jogged lightly to the front door, knocking once. He waited maybe ten seconds before the door opened and he was practically dragged in. You gave him a two-fingered salute as he looked over his shoulder before the door shut behind him. You sighed to yourself and started the car up again. 

Well, you were in Tacoma. What was interesting around here?  
~~~~~~  
Two months later a window popped up in your little-used Persterchum account. 

\-- turnTechGodhead [TG] began pestering AristotlesAccountant [AA] at 3:14:08 --

\--TG: hey morgan. its dave.  
\--AA: Dave! I was wondering if I’d ever hear from you.  
\--TG: like hell id drop a huge favor like the one you handed me.  
\--AA: Heh. I’m flattered. So, what’s going on?  
\--TG: see, I’ve got a friend on an island in the middle of nowhere in the Pacific and shes just recently come into a lot of money but isn’t exactly sure what to do with it. And she wants to eventually fly over here. think you can help.  
\--AA: Not a problem! Got her contact info?  
\--TG: hold up shes about to contact you.

\-- GardenGnostic [GG] began pestering AristotlesAccountant [AA] at 3:16:12 –  
GG: hi i’m Jade!!!  
End


End file.
